


A Division of Times ⋇ New York

by awkwardauthoracts



Series: A Division of Times [1]
Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Hannibal Extended Universe, I tried my best on the characterization, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Smoking, Voyeurism, adam listens to nigel jerking off, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28850622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardauthoracts/pseuds/awkwardauthoracts
Summary: Adam finds out a lot of things about his new neighbor in a single day.His name is Nigel. He might be a drug dealer who could possibly be from Russia. He chain-smokes and likes to drink root beer, but only late at night. He masturbates very loudly. He wants to go on a date in the park tomorrow. And he's honest.Harlan says it's hard to find honest people nowadays, but Adam thinks he's waited long enough for this one.
Relationships: Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki
Series: A Division of Times [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115570
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	A Division of Times ⋇ New York

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly self-indulgent I'm not even gonna lie. but I'm gonna share anyway 
> 
> ⋇
> 
> tags will be updated as the story progresses
> 
> ⋇
> 
> not beta read

⋇

“A girl moved into 2A today. Her apartment is right below mine,” Adam said plainly, taking a bite of his even more plain sandwich. Harlan was surprisingly enthusiastic about this. 

“Alright! Now that’s lunch talk! What’s she like?”

How was Adam supposed to know? He just said she moved in today _._ “I don’t know. I haven’t held a proper conversation with her.”

“Well, you’re going to, ain’t ya’?”

“Why would I? I don’t have any reason to.” Judging by what he saw her moving in, they didn’t have any similar interests, which was a solid basis for initial conversations. They had spoken briefly while Adam people watched on the front steps of the apartment. He had seen four very likely pregnant women today. That was a new record. Beth said it was “a little weird to count pregnant ladies, don’t you think?” Adam said no, he didn’t think so, hence why he did it. She walked back inside with a heavy cart full of things just a moment later while Adam watched what he believed to be a drug deal on the other side of the street. It was the second one that day. Since their discussion hadn’t exceeded ninety seconds, he didn’t consider it a proper conversation. It revealed very little about who they were to each other, so it was more like passing small talk than anything else. 

“It’s good to be friendly with the neighbors! Especially the young, pretty ones.”

Adam nodded. “Beth is likely in her mid-twenties or so, and she is objectively attractive.”

“Is she _subjectively_ attractive?”

Adam looked down at his now-empty sandwich wrapper and began folding it up so the bread crumbs didn’t fall out into the trash can and attract the raccoons where they would get in trouble. “She’s pretty,” he said, stealing Harlan’s adjective. “But I think the man from 3C is much better looking.” His tattoo was very nice, even if it was in a nonconventional spot and of a lewd image. It was entertaining to watch it move when he grumbled to himself or moved his head. 

Thankfully, there was no odd stumble over Adam mentioning a man’s looks. That had already happened a few years ago. Harlan had been encouraging him to get out and date, just like he was now, and he kept saying women and ladies and girls and Adam had simply asked “what about men?” Harlan awkwardly asked—so awkwardly that even Adam could see it clearly—if he was interested in men. Back then it had been a “yes, I think so,” but now, after seeing the man from 3C walk around in nothing but a towel while he smoked doing laundry or getting a root beer from the vending machine, Adam could very confidently say “yes, I am.” 

“Who’s the man from 3C? You haven’t mentioned him before.”

“I don’t know his name. I’ve never spoken to him.”

Harlan stood up and crumbled his own sandwich wrapper into a ball. That meant it was time to leave and go back to work. 

“You really should talk to one of them, son, if not both. It’ll be good for you to expand your social circle.”

“Okay, Harlan.”

“See you tomorrow, Adam.”

“Goodbye.”

And Adam went to work, clocking back in at exactly one p.m., and writing code for another two hours and twenty-seven minutes before he got a text from Harlan. 

_Can't make lunch tomorrow. Gotta take my car into the shop. Sorry._

It was quickly followed by _Maybe you can get one of those neighbors to eat with you?_

Adam replied with a curt _Maybe._

And that was the end of the conversation. Short, brief, easy, and familiar. 

Adam left for home at six p.m. and arrived forty-two minutes after. 

The man from 3C was sitting on the steps, smoking, and looking up at nothing. It was a nearly black sky, but through the smog, only a few stars could be seen at all. Adam could have walked past him, left him alone in peace on one of the more quiet nights in New York, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked where the man was looking. If they were in the countryside, perhaps the man could have been stargazing, but nothing was distinguishable. 

“What are you looking at?”

The man didn’t reply, eyes glazed over. He took a long drag from his cigarette and blew smoke rings. If it didn’t smell so bad, it would have been impressive. 

“What are you looking at?” Adam repeated and stared where the man’s gaze was directed, making sure he wasn’t missing anything. Perhaps he needed to get glasses. When he looked back to the man, he was looking right at-

“You,” the man from 3C said. 

He hadn’t been looking at Adam a moment ago. “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re gorgeous, gorgeous.” He pulled a box of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lit a new one with the old. Adam wondered if he had been chain-smoking out here for long. It was incredibly unhealthy. “Where have you been hiding my whole life?”

“Apartment 3B.”

“No shit? I’m in 3C.”

“I know. We’ve been neighbors for a few weeks.”

The man stood and came off the steps, leaning against the handrail, much closer to Adam than before. “Then tell me, darling, how have you flown under my radar for this long?

“I see you in the hallway around four times a week. You’re just not very observant.”

When the man began to laugh, smoke bellowed from his lungs and spun up into the air, dissipating into the universe. 

“I like a man who speaks his mind.”

Adam agreed strongly. “I hate liars.”

There was a brief lull in conversation. Adam couldn’t quite tell if it was because Nigel was preoccupied with his cigarette or if they were done and he should leave. He counted to ten very slowly in his head, subtly tapping each digit out on his thigh, knowing that a long ten seconds of silence generally meant he was done talking with someone. He tugged at the hem of his sweater to straighten it and moved to walk inside. His hand was on the door handle when the man spoke again. 

“What’s your name, gorgeous? Unless you’d like me to keep calling you that.”

Adam wanted to answer with his back to the street, but that was widely considered rude. He was supposed to look at someone when making conversation. “That’s not my name, so I’d rather you didn’t.” He turned around and the man from 3C was right there. “My name is Adam.”

“Adam,” the man tasted his name for the first time. “Adam, Adam, Adam.” He grinned unevenly. His teeth were sharp. “You look like an Adam.”

“I _am_ an Adam.”

“And I’m a Nigel, darling.”

_Nigel_. 

He didn’t really look like a Nigel, but that was probably an inappropriate thing to say out loud. 

“Say hi next time you see me in the hall.” He stepped back to sit back on the steps. “I’ll buy you a drink,” he added, facing the road. Maybe Nigel didn’t like looking at people either. They were alike in that way. 

In a slightly better mood after what could only be deemed a positive, pleasant, successful social interaction, Adam went into the apartment building. Sitting on the indoor steps that led to his apartment was Beth, who was immediately looking at him. 

“Adam!” She sprang to her feet and quickly came over. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He had already had one unplanned stop before he had to go make dinner. Another one would put him off schedule. 

“Sorry, I just-...“ Beth looked at her feet and blushed pink. “I saw that creep talking to you outside, and I wanted to make sure he didn’t, like, try to make you do coke or something.”

“Why would Nigel make me do cocaine? He seemed nice.”

Beth gasped and gestured for Adam to sit down on the stairs with her so she could whisper as if the stairs offered more privacy than the doorway. “Haven’t you heard?”

Adam shook his head. His schedule was becoming tighter by the second but he wanted to know more about Nigel. It would hopefully make future conversation easier. 

“Apparently, he came from Russia or something because he shot someone and nearly got arrested for it. He ran away here to sell coke and heroin and pot until he can… Go back home, I guess.”

He took a minute to process just what all that meant. If it was true, Nigel was a criminal and should be reported to the police immediately. 

“He didn’t sound very Russian.”

“I don’t know. It could’ve been some other European country.” Beth brushed the facts to the side. “One of my girlfriends told me that back when she was a druggie—don’t worry, she’s normal now—but back when she was a druggie, she used to get weed off him. He was her dealer and anytime she didn’t do exactly what he said, he would hit her. She said she even saw him beat a guy nearly to death once because he was, like, a dollar short.” 

That didn’t really sound like the man who watched polluted skies in his free time, but Adam didn’t know him very well, so maybe Beth was telling the truth. Either way, she was only saying what she heard other people say, so it wasn’t really lying, but it was close. Adam had never cared for gossip. 

“When was the last time your friend purchased marijuana?”

Beth looked a little perplexed at the question but had to think for a moment to get the date. “Um… six months ago? Maybe seven? It honestly could be eight. I’m not sure. Why?”

Adam had heard enough. He stood and stared up the stairs. “Nigel moved in two months ago. Goodbye, Beth.”

“Wait, Adam!” He stopped. “Uh… Me and the girls are going out clubbing tomorrow night if you want to come. A few of them have boyfriends that are coming, so you won’t be the only guy.”

He really did not want to go. Clubs were probably one of Adam’s least favorite places in the world. They were loud and noisy and messy and gross. Evidently, his distaste showed on his face. 

“I’d like you to come, Adam,” Beth said, suddenly much more quiet and serious. It felt genuine. “I want to get to know you.”

Adam gnawed on his inner cheek. He liked Beth, though not her friend who lied about Nigel, and he didn’t like clubs. Or strangers. But Harlan said he needed to get out more, and everyone started as strangers before they became friends. 

“I’ll think about it.”

Beth beamed, and Adam thought her smile was lovely. He felt a little more inclined to say yes, but he was too cautious to commit quite yet. “I’ll stop by your apartment at eight to pick you up. Night, Adam.”

“Goodnight, Beth.”

Adam slumped against the wall when he finally got to his apartment. He was four minutes behind schedule, and he’d probably have to cut his shower short in order to go to sleep on time. One day without conditioning his hair would be fine. Probably. 

He made dinner, ate his chicken, broccoli, and macaroni and cheese, watched his program, washed the dishes, put them away, went to the bathroom, stripped himself down, showered without conditioning, toweled off, put on his pajamas, brushed his teeth, shaved his face, laid down, and stared at the ceiling. 

He felt uncharacteristically energetic. He sighed and got out of bed; this had been happening a lot lately. He knew he could either lay down and get lost in his own head for hours or he could take advantage of the seemingly endless late hours of the night. 

For over twenty years, Adam had been punctual about going to bed at ten p.m. and falling asleep about ten minutes after, if not faster. However, for about two months now, usually four times a week, he was restless. He had the overwhelming urge to do something, and yet, he had no idea what. He had gone on walks, been to the park, gone shopping, visited museums, masturbated, stargazed, watched movies, baked bread, and pretty much every other thing he could think to do that didn’t require another person. None of it helped his restlessness, but there was something freeing about living time not on a schedule. He could do whatever he wanted. Anything was possible and no clock was going to dictate what his next move was. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loved his schedule, having his whole day planned out for him the moment he woke up; finishing it by laying in bed was one of the most satisfying parts of his day, especially knowing he was going to do it all over again in just a few hours. It was just too easy to imagine no consequences when there wasn’t a timetable to abide by. 

But maybe it was time to change the schedule. Add something new, though he had no idea what. 

Adam decided that tonight he would watch the stars and try to find what Nigel was looking at. In his honor and because artificial sweetness sounded amazing, he found two dollar bills and went to the hallway to buy a root beer from the vending machine. 

Adam fed the machine his bills and pressed 3C for a root beer. Same as Nigel’s apartment. He managed to get the last bottle. He hoped Nigel already got his for the night. Adam didn’t want to take the last one when he didn’t even like root beer all that much. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” said a voice from behind him. 

He turned around and saw Nigel, pleasantly surprised. Those two words didn’t often go together. “I told you my name is Adam.” He found himself smiling regardless of the correction. 

“I can’t help but call ‘em as I see ‘em.”

Adam took a moment to observe Nigel’s outfit, which really wasn’t an outfit at all. It was just a robe and an oversized one at that. It was barely tied at all, just loosely around his hips, exposing nearly his entire chest and stomach. Nigel was surprisingly hairy, with his chest hair being thick and the epitome of manliness. Adam, on the other hand, knew that under his own pajamas he was the exact opposite. He was physically frail and relatively smooth. He might have dwelled on that start difference for longer if his eyes weren’t drawn lower to the more coarse hair that disappeared down where the robe was tied. It seemed highly probable that Nigel wasn’t wearing underwear. Adam’s immediate thought was that he had just gotten out of the shower, but his hair wasn’t even damp. Maybe Nigel just lounged around his apartment in the nude. Maybe he just slipped on a robe to cover up before coming out into the hallway. 

Maybe Adam would try masturbating again. 

“Like what you see?” Nigel’s voice was thick with something undecipherable as he stepped closer. “There’s more where this came from.”

Maybe Adam would try being more subtle in his staring. 

“I just see you,” Adam said, grip on his root beer bottle tightening, “so I don’t really understand how there can be more.”

“But there’s so much you haven’t seen yet.” Nigel’s hand came up to caress Adam’s cheek, but he jerked away. Adam wasn’t fond of touch in general, but on his face was the worst. It crowded his vision and filled his senses so _horribly._

“Please don’t touch my face,” Adam asked, and Nigel pulled his hands back, stuffing them into the pockets of his robe. 

“You should’ve said so, darling.”

“I didn’t know you were going to try.”

Nigel shrugged casually and moved toward the vending machine. Out of habit, his fingers hovered over C3 until he realized it was empty. 

“Damn. You wouldn’t happen to know where a guy can get a decent drink at this hour, would you?”

Adam offered his own drink, less cold than before having been in his sweaty palm for the better part of five minutes. “You can have this one.”

“But it’s yours.”

“I don’t really like root beer.”

Nigel crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one side, raising a brow. “Then why’d you buy one?”

“It made me think of you.”

Nigel’s maybe-smug-maybe-joking face was gone in an instant and his arms loosened across his chest. “You wanna tell me why you were thinking about me so late in the evening?” He stepped forward again, only this time bringing his hands to Adam’s waist, which was bearable for the moment. 

“I was wondering what you were looking at earlier. I thought I’d have a root beer like you do and try to figure it out.”

“Any luck?”

“No. I have started yet.” Adam held out the bottle again, but they were much closer now. “Do you want this?”

“We can share, darling,” Nigel replied, looking further down than Adam’s eyes, closer to his mouth and chin. He wondered if there was something stuck in his teeth even though he’d brushed his teeth. 

“Sharing a bottled drink would require us to exchange saliva. I’d rather not do that.”

Nigel’s grip on his waist got more intense, the pads of his fingers nearly digging into Adam’s skin. Somehow, it was grounding rather than painful, almost like a weighted blanket was. 

“I can think of some more interesting ways to swap spit.”

Adam’s answer was almost hesitant. This felt like one of those times when something was being said, but he wasn’t hearing it. “Why would I want to swap spit? It hardly sounds pleasant.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Nigel stepped closer until he couldn’t anymore, their lower halves meeting and uppers pulled away so they could still look at each other. Only Adam wasn’t meeting Nigel’s eye; he was looking at his chest, hands almost itching to come forward and touch the visible hair. His brain, however, was more focused on their sudden connection. 

“I can’t tell if you’re aroused or if your penis is that large when it’s flaccid.”

Not but a split second after, Adam felt it twitch against his hip, and his own penis began to fill out in response. 

“Care to find out, gorgeous?”

Adam had learned over the years that announcing one’s sexual preferences bluntly was widely considered inappropriate. “You’re implying I look at your penis, Nigel. You should really be careful suggesting such things. Some people might accidentally view it as sexual flirtation.”

“But that’s exactly how I intend it to be interpreted. Did I not make that clear?

Adam blinked. “No,” he said, feeling rather stupid because it really had been quite obvious. Maybe he was more tired than he felt. 

Nigel cleared his throat, and his eyes darkened. “I wanna fuck you, darling. Make you forget everything except my name.”

“But we just met a few hours ago.” Though the tiny, impulsive part of Adam couldn’t deny it sounded tempting. 

“Yeah. So, what?”

“I don’t like one-night stands,” Adam explained. “Other people’s beds are uncomfortable, and I prefer to bask in the afterglow of sex rather than be kicked out, assuming it wasn’t unpleasantly messy.”

“Then I’ll stay the night. It’s not a problem; I’m just down the hall otherwise.” Nigel tilted Adam’s head upward in a way that was easily recognizable as suggestive and flirtatious—it was in a lot of movies—but it just felt strange. His skin was still smooth from where he’d shaved, and without any kind of facial hair, even a faint stubble, Adam felt exposed and raw. 

Nigel was strangely persistent; at this point in the conversation, most people usually made an excuse to leave, but here he still was, talkative as ever. 

“But we’d have to be dating for it not to be a one-night stand,” Adam pointed out, wondering vaguely if Nigel knew that their being near-strangers meant that any kind of sex would be a one-night stand. 

“You’re impossible, darling.” Nigel’s hands dropped and he stepped away, digging into the pockets of his robe and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. 

“I’m not impossible,” Adam replied evenly. “I’m very possible. I’m right here.” He’d never really wrapped his head around that saying, despite people telling it to him fairly frequently. _Stubborn_ seemed like a reasonable substitute instead of a phrase that hardly made any sense. 

But Nigel wasn’t listening anymore, too focused on patting himself down and looking for something. Based on the cigarette now hanging from his lips, he was searching for a lighter that he didn’t appear to have. 

“ _Shit_ ,” he cursed under his breath, but Adam could still hear fairly clearly. “Let’s go on a date then, yeah? When works for you?”

It felt convenient when Adam was able to say “tomorrow at twelve-fifteen in Central Park at the bench about ten yards to the left of the hot dog stand where Michael works.”

Nigel took a moment to process that. “Very specific,” he said, taking his unlit cigarette between his fingers. “But I like a man who knows what he wants. _I_ sure as hell do.”

“What do you want?” Adam was beginning to think Nigel didn’t really want the root beer after all. 

“I’d like to fuck you, gorgeous, but clearly that’s not going to happen tonight.” 

He was glad they were no longer touching. He could see Nigel’s hardening penis pushing up against the flimsy fabric of his robe, and if he was forced to touch it, Adam was sure he would have become more sexually aroused than he had been before. 

“I don’t like to hook up with strangers, even very attractive ones,” he repeated. “But maybe after we’re no longer strangers we can have sex.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He stood, eyes fixated on Nigel, who wasn’t saying anything else. His eyes were half-lidded, perhaps sleepy, as he looked at Adam’s everything, slowly drinking it all in. After ten seconds, it seemed as if the conversation was over, so Adam quickly said goodbye and turned back to his own apartment. Nigel didn’t stop him, silently watching him leave, despite their bedrooms being a single wall apart if he was remembering the building’s floor plans correctly. 

Normally, there was no need for noise-canceling headphones when in his room. Sometimes Adam would listen to the soothing sounds of the planets if he was feeling particularly on edge, but usually, he was content with the quiet. A few years ago when his dad had still been alive, there was a couple who lived in 3C that was incredibly loud, constantly yelling and having painful sex almost every night. Thankfully, Adam was pretty sure they got a divorce and the man moved out, only for the woman to follow a few months later, leaving the apartment empty for a very long time. When Nigel moved in, he was not loud or obnoxious as the only thing Adam ever heard was the quiet sounds of a TV playing movies in a language he didn’t know. 

However, when finally tucked back into bed, root beer placed in the refrigerator, Nigel was not quiet at all. It was fairly obvious when he jumped into his own bed, the springs underneath it groaning and squeaking at his sudden weight. Adam was on his side, weighted blanket draped pleasantly over him, covering his entire body from toes to the bottom of his chin, and he very nearly let sleep pull his eyes shut, his interaction with Nigel being just enough to tire him, when he froze. The shifting of the body on the bed one wall away from him was irritating and filled up his room in a way it never had before. Fabric was moving around far too quickly for it to be Nigel turning around in his sleep, and it was abruptly cut off with a loud sigh. Maybe now Nigel was going to sleep after being uncharacteristically loud. 

Adam’s grip on his blanket got significantly tighter when he recognized the all-too-familiar sounds of someone masturbating. 

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to drown out the sounds of it with his own thoughts because he knew he wasn’t supposed to listen to someone else jerking off. 

It worked for maybe a minute until: _“Adam.”_

A wave of pleasure hit Adam’s gut like a brick—hard and fast. He was hardly even aware of his own growing erection until his right hand was touching it through his pajamas, but he didn’t dare move. He preferred to masturbate with lube, because though the texture was unpleasant, it was much better than being too dry, but getting the lube would take him getting out of bed, which was too noisy; Nigel would undoubtedly hear. 

And that just raised another question of morale: should Adam get off to Nigel getting himself off if he was thinking of Adam? There didn’t seem to be any kind of rule for this, so he was forced to think logically. 

Nigel had wanted to have sex. Adam didn’t want to have sex. Nigel was jerking off and saying Adam’s name. Adam didn’t know if he was the Adam in question, but Nigel was fairly new to the city, so the odds were that he was. Nigel was also very attractive. He was normally quiet, and this was likely not the first time he had acted sexually since moving in. This was, however, likely his first sexual act since meeting Adam. Perhaps he was being loud so Adam could hear, but that sounded a little too strange to be true. 

“Fuck, _Adam.”_

What Nigel didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

Adam slowly pushed down his pants and underwear as to not be heard, hand wrapping around his now-leaking cock. He bit his lip hard to keep from moaning at the tiniest bit of touch and the incessant sounds of Nigel thrusting up into his hand. It sounded so _wet._

The lube was too far away to reach without creating suspicion, but Adam didn’t think he’d last very long. He pulled the blanket off him, half of it landing silently on the floor, and slowly rolled over on his back. The cool air of the room wrapping around him after finally getting warm under his blanket sent shivers down his spine. 

“Just like that, darling, _fuck-“_

Adam tugged at his cock, thumb wiping over the head and trying to use his precum as makeshift lube. It didn’t work, but when he closed his eyes, he saw Nigel hovering over him, bouncing on top of him, taking his own pleasure. Nigel was the type to keep wanting more, growing tired of Adam’s bland missionary and flipping them over, broadening his horizons and riding him until his knees gave out. Maybe Nigel would place his hands on Adam’s chest, dragging his shirt up, tweaking at his nipples until they couldn’t get any harder. Nigel would grind his ass down and bend forward to kiss Adam’s neck until he was begging for more. Then Nigel would bite him and suck on his skin until he was black and blue all over. 

“You’re so tight for me, gorgeous.”

And the fantasy changed in the blink of an eye. 

Adam drew his knees up to his chest, feeling Nigel tug at his balls, maybe even take them into his hot mouth, as Adam squirmed beneath him. Nigel bit at his overly sensitive inner thighs, leaving bruises that would last for weeks. His lubed fingers were pushing into Adam three at a time—god, he wished he had lube—and maybe, if Adam was really good for him, Nigel would bend over and lick a slow stripe up his dick, lingering at the tip. He’d use just the tiniest bit of teeth, slowly opening up Adam, fingers pulling him apart from the inside. And then, all at once, he’d leave Adam just on the brink of cumming, rolling on a condom over his cock. He was bigger than Adam, not extremely so physically, but just in his confidence. He’d line himself up with Adam’s desperate hole, lube dripping off both of them in thick globs, but Adam wouldn’t care; he’d be too aroused to think about anything else besides being full. 

Nigel tried to go slow, but Adam was tired of slow and patient. He wasn’t going to break at any sudden movements, so he told Nigel he needed “more, please, Nigel. Harder. Faster. Nigel. Nigel, _please-”_

And that was all it took for Nigel to recklessly thrust forward, burying himself fully inside Adam. 

“Are you okay, darling?” 

Eyes closed and breathing heavy, Adam nodded. “ _Don’t stop.”_

Nigel pulled out halfway, his fat cock dragging through Adam’s insides only to be slammed right back against his prostate. Adam gasped like he never did when he was alone, head rolling back against his pillow, and Nigel was relentless. His hand came up to brush away untamed curls that had fallen into Adam’s face, and he cupped his cheek. His thumb pushed its way into Adam’s mouth and he didn’t know why he liked it as much as he did until Nigel was cumming inside him. It was hot and warm and everywhere and just enough to bring Adam to orgasm, making a mess all over his stomach. 

Adam focused on his breathing, never too loud. His fantasy hadn’t lasted but a few blissful minutes, only for the euphoria to be ripped away from him when he opened his eyes to find out he was alone in bed jerking off to the sounds his neighbor was making. Only he wasn’t making them anymore, and Adam had no idea how long he’d been quiet. Apparently, not long because a few moments of silence later, and Adam jumped at the sound of Nigel knocking at the thin wall between them. 

“Adam,” he spoke clearly and far too loudly for the late evening hour, “are you still awake?”

It sounded like a line out of a movie aimed at teenagers, where the boy was throwing rocks at the window of the girl he had a crush on and telling her to get up to go on an impulsive date in the middle of the night. Only this wasn’t a movie, they were both men well past their teenage years, and Adam rarely ever did anything impulsive, despite his almost constant urge to do so. He was very good at self-control. 

“Adam? I thought I...”

The man in question sat quietly, hand wanting to inch toward the wall, perhaps not to reply verbally, but at least to knock back to say _yes, he was,_ but he couldn’t move. His skin had turned to glass and his muscles locked in place. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. 

“Guess not,” Nigel said, only this time much quieter, as if talking to only himself, just as he believed he was, and Adam felt all the worse for it. 

⋇


End file.
